


Through Everything

by DarkAngelBK201



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Fluff, M/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 21:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5306603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAngelBK201/pseuds/DarkAngelBK201
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of fics from SinJa Week 2015</p>
<p>Prompts: Promises, Fight, Scars, Light, Past, Gift, Free Day</p>
<p>Sinbad and Ja'far have lived and loved through everything that life has ever thrown at them. These stories are a mere collection of such events. </p>
<p>(Individual summaries will be provided in Notes before each prompt)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Poisoned Incentives

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Poisoned Incentives
> 
> SinJa Week 2015: Day 1 - Promises
> 
> Summary: Ja’far told him exploring was a bad idea, but did he listen? Of course not.

The forest floor was encased in dark shadows, bright moonlight spilling through the spaces between the stretching branches to speckle the dirk below. A cold wind whistled through the trees, the rustling of leaves drifting through the otherwise silent woods. The dry scent of mold and rotting leaves clung to the air, the cold bitter on the tongue. Loud and heavy footsteps crunched through the fallen leaves, another, lighter, set following shortly behind. Raised voices echoed through the trees, anger evident in the raised volume and the venomous snap of each word.

“I told you we should have just stayed in the city, Sin!” Ja’far snapped, a tight scowl on his face. Goosebumps peppered his flesh, the cold air seeping right through his thin robes. “But no, you just had to go exploring.” Sin smiled, not at all concerned by their current state as they continued through the vacant forest. Golden eyes practically glowed in the light of the full moon, glittering and playful when he glanced down at his fuming advisor. He was seemingly unaffected by the cold, but he could feel it nipping at his nose, leeching into the tips of his fingers.

“Aw, what’s the fun in that, Ja’far? It’s been a long time since we did any exploring,” he insisted, biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Anger rolled from Ja’far in violent waves, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides. “You used to enjoy this, remember?”

“Has it occurred to you that we’re  _lost_? And that we are expected at the palace  _tomorrow_  to meet with the king and if we’re not there we could be ruining our chances at a treaty?”

“We’re not lost. We’re just…taking an unconventional path. We’ll be at that meeting tomorrow. Don’t you worry, Ja’far.”

“I’m going to kill you.” Sin lost his battle at attempting to contain himself, choked laughter finally bursting from between his lips. Dark eyes turned to glare at him, fury boiling in that gaze. They stopped walking, Sin propping an arm against a nearby tree to hold himself upright as his chest continued heaving. Ja’far’s hands trembled, fingers twitching to grasp at the blades tucked into his sleeves.

“You say that all the time, Ja’far,” Sin wheezed, his tone interlaced with laughter. “Last time I checked, I’m still not dead.”

“Do you want me to change that?” There was a growl to Ja’far’s words, a threatening roughness broke Sin out of his fit. He held up his hands in surrender, fighting to keep the grin off his face.

“Alright, alright. I give. Let’s just find a way back to the city, ok?” They walked in silence from that point on, Ja’far’s muscles coiling tighter and tighter as the night wore on. The moon was high in the sky, splashing its white streaks on the forest floor, but it was slowly sinking on the horizon. The night was almost at its end, and if they didn’t find where the city was soon, Ja’far might actually kill him.

Sin supposed he could always equip a djinn if it got too late. But for now, the walk was refreshing. And he would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the time he got to spend alone with his advisor…even if Ja’far was fuming. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he sighed, his head dropping forward. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Are you two lost?” a voice questioned, startling both Sin and Ja’far. Sin’s mouth clicked shut, his hand closing around Baal’s sword as he wheeled around. Golden eyes were wide and searching, scanning the darkness for any sign of the source. Ja’far flew past him, silver blades glinting in the darkness, and shoved a shadow up against a tree, the shimmering edge pressed against its throat.

“Who are you? Why are you following us?” Ja’far snapped in a harsh whisper, pressing his knife deeper into their throat. Sin moved closer as the shadow sputtered, head pressed back in an attempt to give himself some space between the knife and the thin skin of his throat. His eyes adjusted slowly, not as used to working in the dark as Ja’far was. Ja’far had his hand pressed firmly on the man’s chest, his other holding his knife. Onyx eyes were hard and flinty, his mouth a tight slash across his face. Biting back a smile, Sin rested a hand against Ja’far’s shoulder.

“He can’t answer your questions with you holding a blade at his throat, Ja’far,” he reminded gently. Ja’far didn’t respond at first, but eventually sighed and stepped away, releasing the man from his hold. His weapons remained in his hands, the scarlet ropes taut against his wrists. Sin smiled at the man, who now had a hand grasping at his throat. “Now that that’s been settled, perhaps you could explain why you were following us.” Brown eyes stared at him, wide and alarmed.

“I wasn’t following you!” he argued, rubbing gently at his irritated neck. “I was walking by and saw you two. I thought you were lost and I was trying to help you when your friend here shoved me against a tree!” His voice wobbled slightly, gaze flicking back and forth between Ja’far and Sin. Jaw clenched, he lowered his hand, revealing the red mark now marring his pale skin. Long, stringy strands of dark hair hung limply by his face, well used clothes hanging a little loosely from his thin frame. He was a scruffy traveler by the looks of it.

“Well then, if that’s the case then we owe you an apology for your treatment. Is there anything that we can do for you to make up for it?” Sin spread his hands, still smiling brightly to reassure the man that they meant no harm, even with Ja’far wound tighter than a spring behind him. The man studied Sin for a moment, chewing at already frayed lips. Silence dropped over them, broken only by the quiet rustling of leaves.

“Actually…There is one thing you can do for me.”

**MLMMLM**

Ja’far bitterly accepted the cup of cheap wine when it was pressed into his hands, his hands curling tightly around the brittle cup. Sin stared meaningfully at him, his lips twisted into a stern expression. Ja’far nearly snorted at the expression. He knew what was expected of him here and he would perform his duties as was required and nothing more. These people couldn’t be trusted and Ja’far wouldn’t trust them, not until they gave him a reason. Likely Sin didn’t see much further than the free meal and wine, but that’s what Ja’far was here for anyway; to make sure that Sin didn’t stumble into yet another trap.

Taking a bitter sip of his drink, he resisted the urge to gag and spit it out, forcing the liquid down his throat in disgust. He scanned the group, already making plans to escape if the need arose. They sat around a small, weak fire, the flames flickering with each breeze. A meager pot sat in the embers, what appeared to be a stew bubbling inside. He and Sin were seated together, prompted to sit here by their hosts. Around the other side of the fire sat three men, one of which was the same man he had pinned against a tree not a half hour earlier. They were dressed similarly, in the same torn rags and ragged shoes. Friendly smiles were stretched across their faces, eyes glittering over the fire. His weapons were cold against his skin, his hands itching to have them in his grasp. But they seemed to be nonthreatening…for now. Even so, Ja’far didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them.

There was a reason behind this…friendly offer of a hot meal.

“I’m happy you could join us for dinner. These woods are harsh and confusing at night. You’ll likely be stuck here until morning,” the man who had invited them said, working to spoon out bowls of the stew. He hadn’t offered his name, and so they hadn’t offered theirs. That was the only sensible thing Sin had decided on all evening. The stew splashed messily into the makeshift bowls, slopping over the edge to spill down the side. “We can lead you back into the city in the morning.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, gentlemen,” Sin responded, accepting the offered bowl with his usual charming smile. Ja’far wanted to kill him. Instead, he took another sip of his wine, fighting his urge to openly glare at his king. Though the wine was cheap, it was strong and it burned all the way down to his stomach. He needed to be careful not to drink too much. Losing clarity here would likely prove to be their end. He lowered the cup, allowing it to rest in his lap instead. “It was great luck that we happened upon such a kind group of travelers. If there is anything that we can do to aid in your travels, please just let us know.”

Ja’far’s lip curled, an expression he hid with another swig of wine. This time when it trickled down to his gut, his stomach rolled as if rejecting it. Blinking, he lowered his cup. That…was not his normal reaction to alcohol. One of the men stared at him from across the fire, a thin grin slipping slowly across his face. “Actually…” their host began, catching his comrade’s eye with a smirk. Ja’far’s hand dropped to his stomach, dread snaking through his veins. He recognized this feeling. It was only too familiar. Oh,  _shit._ “There is one thing you can do for us.” Ja’far barely heard them over the roaring in his ears, the cup slipping through numbed fingers to crash to the ground. Wine spattered along the grass of the clearing, splashing onto Sin’s bared ankle. Fuck, they wouldn’t… Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, only vaguely registering Sin’s hand on his shoulder, Sin asking in a whisper if something was wrong.

Poison.

He slumped to the side, body limp and nerveless as he hit the ground. When Sin moved to go to his side, a sword appeared at Ja’far’s exposed throat, their host standing above his fallen form with a grin plastered onto his face. Sin grasped his own sword, his eyes narrowed to thin slits. “What did you do to him?” he growled, golden eyes darkening.

“We created some incentive for you to honor our agreement. You have to do as we say, or he dies,” another member of the group explained, drawing his own rusted sword. Sin snarled, his lips peeling back from his teeth. His grip tightened around Baal, prepared to equip at a moment’s notice. The blade at Ja’far’s throat pressed deeper, a pained hiss responding to the pressure. Ja’far’s eyes were pained and glassy, the color draining from his face by the minute. “I would remove your hand from your sword if I were you. The poison is fast acting. You don’t have much time.”

Sin’s gaze jumped between Ja’far, panting slightly on the ground, and their captor, smirking confidently. His hand slowly eased from his sword, frustration slowly mounting within him. Dammit. If only he’d listened to Ja’far earlier. They wouldn’t be in this situation. He had to do something and fast. “Well, what do you want from me, money? How quaint. Kind of an arbitrary request when you have the King of Sindria at your beck and call, now isn’t it?” The smile slid from their captor’s face, his eyes widening. Under him, Ja’far glared at Sin, his hands curling weakly in the dirt. His face was gray and chalky, sweat streaming from his temples and plastering fair strands of hair to the damp skin. But the sword dropped away from his throat, the man stepping forward, towards Sin.

Sin, you  _absolute fucking moron_.

Sin smiled, the expression only partially forced, as all three men approached him at once, his hands spread wide. Their searching gazes raked up and down his form, hesitating at the headpiece affixed upon his head. “The king…eh?” one of them whispered, reaching out with one greasy hand to touch the silver bracelet encircling his wrist. The item pulsed slightly in response to Sin’s own disgust, when the hand slid off, erasing the coiled fingerprints that had been imprinted on its surface.

“That’s right. You gentlemen have King Sinbad at your service. Why should you go for mere money, when I can grant you so much more?”

They paused, their expressions twisting in thought. Sin thought he could almost see their brains burning as they considered the possibilities. But they were away from Ja’far, and that was all that mattered right now. Finally, the head of the group grinned, revealing a set of crooked and disturbingly yellow teeth. A shiver of worry travelled down Sin’s spine, resisting the urge to back away from the group. “Eh, we have King Sinbad here…What can we make him do? Perhaps he can give us all of his metal vessels, or better yet…” He stopped for a moment, his brown eyes narrowing in pleasure. “Renounce his throne?” His tongue swept across his lips, smearing wet saliva across the frayed skin. “What do you-”

A thin red wire wrapped suddenly around his throat, cutting off his words instantly. He flew back, a blade stabbing through the back of his neck before he even realized what was happening. Ja’far dropped the body with a snarl, his chest heaving with effort. Two other bodies were scattered at his feet, one a headless corpse, while the other continuously bled from a deep slit that carved across his throat. They must have been dispatched first. Blood stained Ja’far’s robes, some spattered on his pale face. His knives dripped with scarlet, even as he shook them out to rid them of the stain. Onyx eyes stared at Sin hazily, the king frozen in shock.

Ja’far lurched forward suddenly, a hand cupping around his mouth as he choked and coughed. He fell to his knees, one of his hands braced against the ground as the wet coughs echoed in the silence. Blood trickled out from between his fingers, dripping thickly into the mess below. Sin couldn’t breathe, his eyes impossibly wide. “Ja’far!” he cried, surging forward to grab at Ja’far as his arm fell out from beneath him. Ja’far’s head rolled limply back on Sin’s forearm, glassy eyes blinking up at him. His lips were stained crimson, blood streaming down off his chin.

“You idiot…” he wheezed, his eyes slipping shut.

**MLMMLM**

Ja’far glanced back once more before stepping into his office, closing the door behind him. He wasn’t supposed to be working right now, but just stepping into his office for a minute wasn’t technically working, now was it? Smiling to himself, he walked into the room, his sharp gaze sweeping across the vacant area. That was strange…His desk was empty. He’d been gone for a little over a week. There should be piles upon piles waiting for him on his desk, but there wasn’t.

Frowning slightly, he made his way over to it, his brows furrowed in confusion. It really was empty. His fingers brushed the bare wooden surface, not even finding a speck of dust. Someone had been in here, recently too. The door creaked open, Ja’far straightening in response, a little too suddenly. A cough ripped from his throat, tearing at the still delicate membranes, which only worsened the fit. His lungs ached from the effort, still healing form the effects of the poison. Damn bandits. With a swimming head, he finally managed to calm himself, a weary groan slipping from between his lips.

A pair of arms coiled around him from behind, a chin resting on his shoulder. Ja’far tensed, hands curling into fists, before relaxing, recognizing the touch. “And that’s why you shouldn’t be up and about yet, Ja’far,” Sin murmured in his ear, his grip tight around the smaller form. Ja’far leaned back into Sinbad’s sturdy form, allowing his eyes to slip shut.

“You know I don’t like staying put,” he responded hoarsely, his coughing fit earlier effecting his voice. Sin chuckled, lifting his head to press his lips to the top of Ja’far’s head.

“Don’t I know it… But Ja’far you have to think about yourself every once in a while. You almost died.” Ja’far shrugged, his hands coming up to rest on the pair intertwined around his waist.

“But I’m not dead. And there’s work to be done. I can’t just lay around. I’m mostly healed anyway.” Sin sighed, shaking his head.

“Do you see any work for you to do?” Ja’far tilted his head up, his eyes cracking open enough to glare at his king.

“Did you have something to do with this?” Sinbad’s smile was all teeth, golden eyes glittering.

“Perhaps.”   
  
“Is it at least completed and not burned to ash somewhere?”

“You have so little faith in me, Ja’far.”

“Is it not warranted?” Sin pouted, not bothering to respond. They fell to silence, Ja’far relishing in the warmth of Sin’s arms. “Sin.” The chest behind him vibrated in response, a soft ‘hmm’ reaching him. “What you did back there was stupid and could have gotten us both killed. Don’t you ever do that again. Just leave me if a situation like that ever arises. I can take care of myself.” He found himself suddenly turned around, arms planted on either side of him on the desk to hold him in place. Sin’s face was inches from his own, golden eyes flinty.

“Don’t even say that, Ja’far. I will never abandon you when you need me, regardless of how much you think you can take care of yourself. Never.” His lips were pulled down into a stubborn frown, worry etched across his expression. Ja’far stared at him for a moment, before sighing. He wasn’t going to win. Not this time.

“Fine. Then promise me you won’t do something so stupid again.”

“Only if you promise never to scare me like that again.” Ja’far smiled, placing one of his hands over Sin’s.

“You know I can’t promise that.” Sin grinned too, leaning closer.

“Then neither can I.”

He closed the distance between them, pressing his lips carefully to Ja’far’s.


	2. Consequences and Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Consequences and Regret
> 
> SinJa Week 2015 - Day 2: Fight
> 
> Summary: It had just been a few words spoken in anger. How was Sin to know they would haunt him like this?

“Ja’far, you always interrupt me when I’m in the middle of something to get on my ass about something that I didn’t do to your expectations! Can you just relax for a few minutes?!” Sin yelled, storming through the palace halls. The palace staff ducked for cover as he passed, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. Golden eyes were alight with anger, his lip curled as he stalked forward.

“Well, maybe if you actually did something right for once then I wouldn’t have to come after you quite so much!” Ja’far responded in a growl, his eyes narrowed. He followed directly behind Sin, his own fury just as evident in his footsteps, in the angry flush to his pale cheeks. The cloth of his keffiyeh blew back at his pace, sweat-soaked silver hair pinned to his neck.

“You know, Ja’far, I’m not married for a reason! Why would I need a woman to nag me when I’ve already got you?!” Ja’far scowled, his hands curling into tight fists.

“If you actually had a wife, then at least you’d have a few heirs right about now!”

“We’re not making this about that right now, Ja’far!”

“Oh? Then what is this about? Because from what I can tell, this is just you having a temper tantrum because I called you on your shit!” Sin stopped suddenly and turned around, his eyes dark and flinty as he glared. Ja’far halted, his arms crossed over his chest. “And we all know how much you love being told that you made a mistake,” he finished with a hiss.

“This isn’t about me making a mistake,” Sin said, his voice low and snapping with fury. “This is about you attempting to control my life. You want everything done to your standards. Last time I checked, I was king, Ja’far!” Ja’far took a step forward, his teeth grinding together.

“You may be king, but you don’t act like one! And that’s what drives me completely insane. You’re the king, so actually do your damn job for once!”

“No one said you had to stick around and be my advisor if you can’t stand me! If you don’t like the way I do things, then leave!” Ja’far blinked, those words breaking through the fog of fury that had settled over his thoughts.

“What are you saying, Sin?”

“I’m saying that I don’t need you, Ja’far! I don’t need an advisor who can only hound me about the minor things that I’ve done wrong! Leave if you hate me so much! Because I sure as hell don’t need this!” Ja’far was silent for a moment, his eyes wide and shocked. He took a deep breath and turned, his hands dropping limply by his sides.

“Fine. If you don’t want me around, then I won’t stay.” His tone was soft, an undercurrent of hurt laced in his words. Sin watched him walk away, breathing heavily from the strength of the argument. Regret eased into his thoughts, but he shoved it down.

He could always apologize later.

**MLMMLM**

Ja’far sighed heavily, resting his quill back down onto the desk before dropping his head in his hands. His fingers massaged at aching temples, the building pressure in his head finally reading its peak. The paper in front of him blurred in and out of focus at random, not helping the dulled throb in his skull. His muscles burned slightly whenever he moved, likely a result of his growing fatigue, not like he could do anything about that. He lowered his head slowly to the desk, a shiver jostling his body as his skin met the wood. Why was he so tired?

Maybe closing his eyes for a few minutes wouldn’t hurt…

He awoke with a gasp to someone shaking him, a concerned voice asking if he was alright. Ja’far blinked, glazed eyes noting the flickering candlelight that had replaced the sun. Had he slept that long? Belatedly, thoughts of work crossed his mind, panic making him surge up suddenly in his chair. His vision spun, his ears ringing at the sudden change in elevation. Blurred images of the stacks of scrolls sitting on his desk flashed before him, his arm swinging out to grab one and in the process knocking over his inkwell. The hand on his shoulder vanished, the voice once again asking if he was alright, the concern in that tone growing. He ignored them.

Dammit he needed a new inkwell.

Pushing the chair back, he stood, the gentle spinning of the room escalating and flashing as he did so. The blood roared in his ears, blocking out all noise. Ja’far swayed slightly, blinking at the worried faces that were turned towards him.

He was alright, dammit.

But even as he took a step forward, his vision blinked out, and his legs dropped out from under him.

**MLMMLM**

Sin slammed open the door to Ja’far’s room, his concern evident in his wide eyes. His cheeks were flushed from rushing here from across the palace, having abandoned everything the moment the news reached him. Panting slightly, his gaze fell upon the bed, a light gasp escaping him at the sight. He moved to the bed, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. Ja’far was laying prone on the bed, layered blankets piled over him. His lips were parted, cracked breaths for air puffing out from between them. A flush darkened his cheeks, practically erasing the light freckles that normally speckled them, but the rest of his skin was gray. The air in the room was hot and humid, the open door allowing a cool breeze to drift through the still room.

Dropping to his knees by the bed, Sin glanced up at Yamuraiha, standing by the bed toying with her staff nervously. “What happened?” he whispered hoarsely, his heart beating harshly in his chest. Her blue eyes stared at him for a moment, a light frown crossing her expression.

“Ja’far collapsed early this evening with an extremely high fever. We’re not entirely sure what caused it, but judging from how little he’s been sleeping as of late, we suspect fatigue. It wrecks hell on the human body, your majesty,” she explained, her voice a little irritated. Sin sighed. It seemed that news of the argument spread around the palace faster than he’d expected. He reached out and brushed his fingers against Ja’far’s face, nearly recoiling at the hot skin that met his touch. Ja’far grimaced and turned away from Sin’s touch, the pained expression sending ice through Sin’s veins. He slowly lowered his hand.

He wasn’t wanted here, was he?

Shoulders slumping, he looked back at Yamuriaha. “What’s his condition?” She pursed her lips, reaching out into the small basin by the bed to wring out a cloth to rest on Ja’far’s forehead.

“Bad…I can’t get his fever to break. If I can get it to break sometime soon, he’ll be just fine in a week or so, but if not…” She shook her head, worry creasing her expression. Sin’s hands clenched in his lap, the guilt and regret that he’d been suppressing since the argument flooding him without warning. This was all his fault. He fucked up. He’d fucked up big time. His jaw clenched, he stood slowly, his eyes still trained at the floor.

“I see,” he murmured, his lips pressed tightly together. “Keep me updated on his condition please, Yamuriaha.” And he left, blinking back the tears that blurred his vision.

**MLMMLM**

Sinbad opened his bedroom door to chaos, panicked members of his staff scurrying around the halls. His brow furrowed, he stepped outside, calling to the closest person to pass him. “Excuse me,” he said, grabbing the arm of a passing maid. She jumped at his touch, turning wide eyes toward him. “What’s going on here? Why is everyone so worked up?” Carefully pulling her arm from his grasp, she bowed quickly.

“Oh, your majesty! It’s terrible! Sir Ja’far has disappeared and nobody can seem to find where he went,” she said, her hands grasping her skirts tightly. Golden eyes widened, his hand dropping loosely to his side.

“What? Missing?”

“Yes, sir. He wasn’t in bed when Yamuraiha went to go tend to him this morning. We’ve even checked his office.” Jaw clenching, Sin sighed through his nose, running a rough hand through sleep mussed locks of hair. It had only been a few days since Ja’far had collapsed and from what he’d heard from the healers he managed to corner, there really hadn’t been many signs of improvement, if any. There was no way Ja’far was supposed to be wandering about.

“Call off the search. I know where he is. Just…let me take care of this, ok?” The maid brightened, a small smile stretching across her face.

“Yes, your majesty. Right away.” She turned and left, walking briskly towards Ja’far’s room. Sin watched her go for a moment, a deep frown crossing his face. Could he even take care of this at this point? Sucking in a deep breath, he walked in the opposite direction that she had. If Ja’far wasn’t in his own office, there was really only one other place that he would be.

Sin’s office.

Sinbad opened the door slowly, not knowing what scene was lingering just behind the door. Quiet muttering reached his ears as he shut the door, the distinct rustling of paper following the voice. Padding quietly through the office, he glanced around for the source. A quill scratched as it wrote, the brittle scraping likely meaning it was out of ink. There was no one at his desk, but a pale foot poked out from the side, the bared toes splayed as its master thought. Sin peered over the desk, his frown softening.

Ja’far sat in a huddle in the corner, several scrolls thrown messily about him. A dry, nearly broken quill hung loosely in his grip, several of the papers torn from attempts at writing with no ink. Silver hair was sticking up in places, unkempt from his time spent in bed. He was scowling down at the papers, glassy eyes staring intently down at them as if solving some huge problem. That bright flush continued to linger on his cheeks, the fever still very much present.

“Ja’far,” Sin called quietly, his voice soft enough to as to not startle his advisor. Ja’far’s head shot up, blinking wide and dazed eyes up at him. There was no recognition in his expression, but Sin wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Shaking his head, Ja’far’s gaze dropped back down, his scowl deepening. Sin settled himself onto the floor beside him, his movements slow and deliberate. He didn’t want to startle Ja’far and make things worse. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m working,” Ja’far responded irritably, his words slurring slightly. He picked up another paper and squinted at it, turning it to the side as if that would clarify its issues.

“Ja’far, you should be in bed, not working. You aren’t well.” Unfocused onyx eyes glared at him, his hands tight around the scroll. Fear coursed through Sin at that gaze, the lack of recognition even now striking home just how serious the situation was. He moved to grab the scroll, only for Ja’far to pull it away and out of his reach, pouting like a child.

“I’m fine. I can’t afford to rest. I need to prove that Sin still needs me.”

Well, then. That wasn’t what Sin had been expecting to hear, but that’s exactly what he deserved. Pain throbbed through his thoughts, his own words, yelled in anger, coming back to haunt him. Why had he even said that? It wasn’t even true. “I…I still need to prove that I’m needed.” Ja’far spoke quieter this time, lowering the scroll.

“You are needed Ja’far. I’m sure Sin just said something stupid and didn’t mean it. Now, come on. Let’s get you back to bed.” Ja’far shook his head violently, his lips pressed tightly together.

“Sin said he didn’t need me, that I should leave…” Ja'far mumbled, his hand tight around the quill. Sin sat silently, each word sending sharp pain spiking through his heart. This was his fault, wasn’t it? Ja'far sniffed suddenly, tears rolling down his cheeks. “But I don’t want to leave. I want to stay. This is my home.” Sobs hitched in his voice, his shoulders beginning to tremble. “Need Sin to need me.”

Tears budding in his own eyes, Sin pulled Ja'far to him, cradling the shivering form between his legs as he wrapped his arms protectively around him. Resting his head on Ja'far’s, he rocked them both in a soothing manner in an attempt to calm him. “You don’t have to leave, Ja'far. Sin doesn’t want you to leave either. He wants you by his side…always.” Tears dripped down his own face, his eyes squeezing shut. “I do need you…”

**MLMMLM**

Ja’far awoke warm and comfortable, his head aching slightly, but not enough to be anything but irritating. Cracking his eyes open, he blinked up at the ceiling for a few moments, shifting under the weight of the blankets that had been piled on him. A dry strip of cloth pooled beside his head when he turned it, slipping from his damp forehead. Sweat dotted his forehead, clinging to the thin hairs that brushed up against his skin. What…had happened? The last thing he remembered was working and falling asleep at his desk. After that, he couldn’t remember much, just confusing blurs of images that made no sense.

Someone mumbled sleepily at his side, a hand curling tighter around his. Twisting his head over, he smiled softly, his own fingers curling around the hand. Sin was fast asleep in a chair by his bed, his upper half splayed over the mattress. Dark bags hung under his eyes, which twitched once at his movements. His thick mane of purple hair was draped over his back, some of it tangled in his free hand. Ja’far tugged at their intertwined hands, startled by how weak his own movements were.

Sin awoke with a start, his eyes flying open. Their gold wandered around the entire room before eventually falling upon Ja’far, relief relaxing his face when they locked gazes. He sat up, his back cracking audibly as he did so. “Ja’far,” he breathed, a smile fluttering across his features. “Are you feeling alright? Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine, Sin,” Ja’far managed, his throat protesting at anything past a whisper. Sin looked skeptical, but said nothing, his thumb running gently over Ja’far’s hand. “But…perhaps you could fill me in on a few details.” Sin raised an eyebrow, his smile flavored with self-loathing.

“You don’t remember?” Ja’far shook his head, frowning at his own weakness. “That’s probably to be expected. You’ve been sick, Ja’far. Really sick. You just about scared the hell out of me.”

“You could use a few scares every now and then.” Sin frowned, his golden gaze serious.

“Don’t joke about this, Ja’far.” Ja’far blinked at the stern tone, not entirely expecting it. Something was wrong here. Sighing, he moved to sit up, painstakingly lifting himself to rest against the fluffy pillows at his back. At least now he was eye level with Sin.

“It was really bad this time, wasn’t it?” Sin averted his gaze, nodding. His free hand clenched into a tight fist, his eyes screwing shut. Ja’far squeezed Sin’s hand, smiling slightly at the resulting squeeze. “I’m sorry, Sin. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Sin laughed, reaching up to rub at his face.

“You need to start taking better care of yourself, Ja’far. Sleep when you need to. If only for me.” Those golden eyes were pained when they were lifted, cutting Ja’far off before he could even protest. “Please. I don’t ever want to go through that again.” Ja’far exhaled, shaking his head slightly. It wasn’t often that Sin got like this, but it was best to humor him whenever he did.

“I’ll try, Sin.”

“Trying isn’t good enough, Ja’far!” Sin blurted, standing suddenly and ripping his hand out of Ja’far’s. “Don’t lie…It was my fault, wasn’t it? Because of what I said when we were arguing?” He breathed heavily, his hands lifting to grasp at his bangs. “Because if it was, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, any of it.”

“You certainly think highly of yourself, don’t you?” Ja’far asked wryly, his voice unamused. Sin’s head flew up, his eyes wide. “I was busy, Sin. I didn’t have time to sleep. It had nothing to do with that argument at all. Sure, your words stung a little, but I forgave you the next day. Just stop being an idiot, ok?” Sin nodded mutely, his jaw slack in surprise. Ja’far rolled his eyes and, pushing himself slightly to the side, patted the bed.

Sin’s face brightened instantly, launching forward to crawl into bed beside his advisor. He wrapped his arms around Ja’far, pulling them both down to snuggle in the pillows. Ja’far curled closer to Sin, allowing himself this one thing while he was recovering. Sin pressed a kiss to his still warm forehead, his arms tight around his advisor. “I need you, Ja’far. Always have, always will.”

“You’re such a romantic.”

_I do too._


	3. Whatever It Takes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Whatever It Takes
> 
> SinJa Week 2015 - Day 3: Scars
> 
> Summary: Sinbad would do whatever it took to keep Ja’far from harm, but it seems that someone didn’t get that memo.

Sinbad rolled his neck, heaving a deep sigh as he stared out into the crowded courtyard that stretched out before him. Buzzing conversations tumbled through the open air, filling it with a pleasing rumble that, for some reason, grated on Sinbad’s nerves this evening. Masrur stepped out beside him, hands tucked neatly behind his back. The other generals were out mingling…or drinking. Sharrkan’s drunken laughter billowed up through the crowd, his arm slung across a red-faced Alibaba’s shoulders. Yamuraiha was chatting with a few magicians, her face animated and excited as she spoke. Drakon stood near his wife, a glass of wine in one of his hands. Hinahoho wove through the crowd, a buzzed glow to his cheeks. Pisti was grinning widely at Spartos in the corner of the courtyard, his face a brilliant shade of scarlet. Sinbad smiled to himself, golden eyes continually scanning the crowd, as if searching for someone. Someone who wasn’t there.

The expression slipped quickly from his features, a light frown replacing it. His shoulders drooping, he glanced back at Masrur. “Any news?” he asked quietly, keeping his voice low. Masrur was silent for a moment, an uneasy silence that hung in the air.

“No,” he finally admitted, his voice low and soft. “They’ve had no luck.” Sinbad continued staring at him, his frown pulling into a deeper scowl. That hadn’t been what he’d wanted to hear…But it couldn’t be helped he supposed. Not while the entire country was celebrating. Even if they were celebrating without the presence of the man who really made all of this possible.

It had been two days since Ja’far had gone missing.

And there was absolutely no sign of him.

Releasing a breath, Sin squared his shoulders, wiping the worried frown from his face. “I guess it’s time then.” Masrur nodded, taking a step back as Sin stepped forward.

“Welcome, everyone!” Sin boomed, raising his voice so that it swept powerfully over the courtyard. The muted conversations faded, hundreds of eyes turning towards where Sinbad stood. He grinned, white teeth gleaming brilliantly in the fading sunlight. “As you all know, today is the anniversary of the day that our great nation was founded!” Cheers followed his statement, the roar of applause echoing loudly through the air. “But!” he interrupted, lifting his hands to signal silence once more.

“We did not get this far without struggle, without sacrifice, without pain. This country was built from nothing as a haven from strife and misfortune. We exist today as a refuge from outside tyranny. We protect those who are unable to protect themselves. And we have suffered, greatly, during our years on this soil. But this has only made us stronger as a nation. We have fought, bled, and cried to create our beautiful Sindria, and we will continue to defend her for years to come!” Pausing, he grabbed the glass of wine that Masrur offered and lifted it, watching as others mimicked his actions.

“But today! Today is a day for celebration! So let us celebrate our accomplishments and prepare for whatever the next year may have for us! To Sindria!”

“TO SINDRIA!”

Sinbad smiled and lifted the glass from his lips, taking a long drink of wine from it. The crowd followed his example, sipping from their own glasses. For a moment, everything was still. The setting sun finally slipped below the horizon, casting dark shadows across the grass. Palace workers were quick to light torches, the orange glow of fire soon illuminating the area. As Sin lowered his cup, loud laughter sliced through the silence.

“Nice speech, idiot king!” a voice mocked, sending chills down Sinbad’s spine. His gaze flicked up towards the sky, to where the grating sound originated, and locked onto the form of Judar. He floated above the courtyard, feet spread out below him. One of his hands was curled around his hip, the other grasping at something that was slung limply over his shoulder. Black hair flopped over scarlet eyes, a wide grin stretching across his face. But Sin only had eyes for the body slumped over Judar’s shoulder, the blood draining from his face. That couldn’t be…

“Oh, by the way, Sinbad, your precious toy isn’t as fun as you made him out to be.”

And with that cocky smirk on his face, Judar uncurled his arm and dropped his cargo, scarlet eyes gazing down at Sinbad confidently. Party goers shrieked and scattered, bearing an area of paved stonework near the center. Sinbad paid Judar no mind, staring with numbed horror at the body plummeting to the ground below. Time slowed, Sin’s feet moving far before he even considered the idea. But he wouldn’t make it in time.  _He wouldn’t make it._  Instead he could only watch, Judar laughing dimly in the back of his thoughts, as the body crashed to the ground, the stone cracking in a wide web out from the impact site.

Sin’s feet slowed to a stop by the area, his golden eyes wide as the world faded around him save for the form slumped in the center of the cracked stone. Silver hair was stained with crimson blood, more dripping from his forehead, occluding a single eye. Flaking scarlet was smeared across his lips, fresh liquid spilling over the fair skin. One of his arms was outstretched at an awkward angle, the other draped limply over his side, fingers splaying over his abdomen. Stained Sindrian robes were torn and burned, revealing gaping wounds just beneath the thin cloth. Nausea churned in Sin’s stomach, bile creeping up his throat as he stared.

“Ja’far…” he wheezed, his blood running cold in his veins.

“Hey, Sinbad,” Judar drawled, Sin’s eyes slowly dragging upwards to the magi. His mind felt sluggish, the heavy imprint of Ja’far’s fallen form lingering in his thoughts. He was numb, numb to anything outside  _this._  Judar smiled, a crooked expression that pulled more at one side of his face than the other. Twirling on his fingers was Ja’far’s keffiyeh, torn and spattered with blood. “I don’t get why you’re so interested in him. He didn’t even scream.” He threw the headpiece towards Sin, watching the wide golden eyes tracing its path where it crumped right at his feet. Sinbad glanced back at Ja’far, crumpled on stone, blood streaming anew over stained robes.

_Ja’far…_

Judar cackled, drifting downwards to land before Ja’far, bare feet flush against the rough brickwork. In that instant, Sin’s blood roared in his ears, his hands clenching into tight fists. How dare he… Scarlet eyes practically glowed as they fixed upon Sinbad, the pleasure laced within snapping Sin’s last bit of self-control. “Geez, look at him even now. I don’t get it. He-”

Judar’s words were cut off by a set of knuckles digging fast and hard into his cheek, a bright flash of light signaling Sin’s sudden equip. Judar stumbled backward, losing his footing and falling hard onto his ass. His hand rose to cup his throbbing cheek, spitting blood onto the ground, more trickling from the corner of his mouth. Shocked eyes stared up at his attacker, Sin, in Baal’s full equip, scowling down at him. Golden eyes were hard and flinty, lips peeled back into a scowl. “On your feet, Judar,” he hissed, the air crackling violently around him.

A grin stretched across Judar’s face, jumping up to his feet almost before Sin finished speaking. “Now that’s more like it, stupid king. Let’s dance.” Sin didn’t respond, his face shadowed. His hair sparked with the power surging through his body, rising and falling rhythmically. Judar pulled his wand from his shirt, holding the end delicately with only a few fingers. Black rukh chattered around him, gathering to the tip of the device. Ice began to gather, the frost licking the jeweled tip and spreading out in an arc from where Judar’s feet met the ground.

Sin shot through the growing mass of ice, the frozen hunk shattering upon touching his skin. Judar’s eyes widened, but he didn’t have to time to dodge fully as Sin swung, the tip aimed for his throat. Leaning back just enough that the blade only nicked skin, his balance was too far off for him to avoid Sin’s following kick, which landed solidly on his side. Electricity arched through his thin form, his vision flickering even as he crashed to the ground. Black hair fizzled, smoke steaming upwards from their burnt ends.

Scarlet eyes blinked woozily upwards, awareness coming back in a rush at the sight of Baal’s sword rushing towards him. Judar rolled to the side, the blade clanging against the stone below. Staggering to his feet, he whirled around, gathering the ice back to him. Defense. Defense was his only option, as much as it pained him to admit that. Gritting his teeth, prepared for Sin’s next strike.

This was not what he’d expected.

Sin wasn’t playing around.

He really was aiming for the kill.

Sin appeared directly in front of him, golden eyes glowing as they stared right at Judar. A tight scowl slashed across his face, anger creasing his forehead. His hand was tight around the hilt of his sword as he stalked forward, the air snapping with lightning in response to his movements. Overhead, the clouds rumbled and roared, the darkening skies obliterating the moon from view and plunging the courtyard into darkness. Judar inhaled deeply, the ice creaking in response to his commands as it shifted in the air, forming a thin, but protective barrier in front of him.

The first drop of water splashed against Sin’s face, dripping down in a languid path to his chin. The rain started slow, drops pinging lightly on the scaled armor, but slowly grew in intensity, the ground soon darkened in entirety by the water. Soaked bangs clung to Judar’s pale skin, scarlet eyes glaring back at Sinbad. The ice steamed as it met the rain, threatening to break down into pieces despite the amount of magoi Judar was using to keep it together. Lighting arched through the air around Sinbad, moving from droplet to droplet before disappearing into the earth.

Judar moved first, sending the ice out in sharpened spikes. Sin wove between them without even blinking, continuing to move forward. Panicked, Judar attempted to gather more, his arm upraised and glowing with his power. A hand closed in on his throat, its grip tight and constricting, and dragged Judar forward, towards Sinbad. “Leave,” Sin growled in his ear, his hand curling tighter just to hear Judar choke. “Leave before I change my mind about sparing you.” And he shoved Judar backwards, watching through emotionless eyes as the magi fell onto his ass once more.

Gasping for air, Judar launched into the air, noting that listening to Sinbad was probably the wisest action. “Fine,” he wheezed, the gravity magic continuing to propel him upwards. “I can when I’m not wanted. I’m out of here, Sinbad. Have fun with your boring toy.” Without even waiting for retaliation, Judar sped off, feeling the atmosphere tingle with Sinbad’s power. He wasn’t sure what he had done to cause that…But Judar knew he fucked up, and he wasn’t going to attempt to do that again.

Sin watched him leave, his grip tightening around his weapon. But the moment the magi was out of sight, he turned on his heel, walking slowly towards the form still crumpled in a heap at the center of the courtyard. He knelt, his expression softening, and carefully, oh so carefully, lifted Ja’far, his jaw clenching at the hoarse whine that met his movements. They were both soaked through, the blood dripping from Ja’far’s injuries diluted by the rainwater that poured from above.

“Yamuraiha,” he called upon rising, already beginning the journey back into the palace. Yamuraiha jolted out from the crowd at the sound of her name, her blue eyes wide and worried. “Meet me in my room. Bring your healing supplies.” She nodded sharply, her mouth a determined slash across her face.

**MLMMLM**

It didn’t take Ja’far long to recover, even with the full extent of his injuries. After a few sessions with Yamuraiha and the palace healers, only a few bruises still remained, one of which eclipsed Ja’far’s cheek, dark against his pale skin. But he was up and about again in a week, already agonizing over the paperwork that he knew would be waiting for him upon his return. He could only imagine the stacks that had built up in his absence, or worse, the stacks that his staff had attempted to take on and complete incorrectly. Ja’far wasn’t sure which was worse.

However, he didn’t expect for Sin to meet him outside his room. Nor for Sin to pin him up against the door of his room and press his lips firmly against Ja’far’s. He arched up into it, his hands ghosting across Sin’s chest, needing this probably just as much as Sin did. Sin’s muscles were tense under his touch, hard and quivering as his fingers brushed over them. Slanting his head, Ja’far dug his fingers into the front of Sin’s robes and dragged him closer. “Missed me?” he breathed, pulling back for only a second.

Sin grinned slightly, nipping at Ja’far’s lips. “So much that it hurt,” he responded, claiming Ja’far’s mouth once more. He laced his fingers into Ja’far’s silken hair, swiping his tongue over his partner’s lips, begging for entrance. Ja’far’s mouth opened, slightly, but enough for it to slip inside. A breathy moan escaped Ja’far, his mouth melding more firmly with his king’s. This was what Sin needed, what he’d feared he would lose when he saw Ja’far fall that day. His eyes squeezed shut, his teeth closing on Ja’far’s bottom lip. Massaging the nerve rich skin gently, his hands slipped from the locks of silver that they were tangled in to drop to Ja’far’s shoulders, sliding slowly but surely towards the buttons that held the white shirt in place.

Tongues met and slid past one another in a dance that no one but them knew, Ja’far’s arms twining around Sin’s shoulders. He didn’t notice as Sin undid the buttons to his shirt one by one, his thoughts focused on the warmth bursting through him at the press of Sin’s lips on his. The shirt fell open, curious hands poking under the thin material in order to slide it from Ja’far’s shoulder.

Ja’far froze, his eyes flying open.

The robe hung loosely from his now bare shoulder, revealing for all the world to see a darkened scar, the diamond shape giving away just what had caused it.

Sin’s hands paused over it, a thumb running gently over the raised skin. He pulled away, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. The blood drained from Ja’far’s face, his fingers dropping from around Sin’s neck to hang loosely at his sides. Golden eyes dropped upon the mark, a dark anger lacing through him at the sight. “Ja’far, what happened?” he asked quietly.

_Ja’far didn’t scream, not even when Judar pressed the tip of his heated wand into his shoulder. Skin sizzled at the temperature, burning away layer by layer as the weapon sunk further into his flesh. Swallowing harshly, Ja’far turned away, his jaw clenched. His free hand curled into a tight fist, his fingernails digging harshly into his palm._

_He would not scream._

_He would not scream._

_Judar laughed, his legs planted on either side of Ja’far’s waist. “If anything, you give entertaining expression, Freckles,” he said, white teeth glimmering in the dim candlelight. The jewel glowed brighter, the heat increasing in intensity. Blood flooded Ja’far’s mouth, his teeth closing down harshly on his tongue. But still, he was determined not to make a sound. He wouldn’t give Judar that satisfaction._

_“But you’re still so boring when you don’t make a sound. Come on, scream for me.”_

_Silence._

_Judar huffed, but pressed his wand in deeper. “Fine, don’t then. But what will Sinbad think, Freckles. When he finds his most precious toy marked by another man.” Ja’far’s eyes widened, breath whistling in through his broken nose. “Will he hate you then?” That grin only widened, scarlet eyes gleaming with satisfaction above him._

_“Because, after all, this is my brand.”_

Ja’far exhaled shakily, lifting a trembling hand to grasp at Sin’s wrist. “Judar,” he whispered hoarsely, averting his gaze. He didn’t want to see the disgust in Sin’s eyes. His grip was tight around Sin, feeling the muscles and tendons move and stretch as Sin continued to stroke at the brand.

Sin wanted to rip Judar apart, with his bare hands preferably. But instead his shoulders slumped and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Ja’far’s. They sat in silence, foreheads pressed together and eyes shut. “Do you want to talk about it?” Sin murmured, his tone soft. He wasn’t going to press the issue if Ja’far refused, but he needed to ask, even if he already knew the answer.

“It’s a brand.” Ja’far’s voice broke off abruptly, his eyes suddenly burning. Water dripped down his cheeks, his throat tight and painful as he attempted to stop the tears. Nausea churned in his stomach, his teeth clenched together. That’s right, it was a brand. It marked him, and it wasn’t Sin’s. Ja’far was afraid to know how Sin would respond. Shock coursed through him when Sin pulled him against his chest, wrapping tight, protective arms around him. Sin’s eyes slipped shut, his lips pressed tightly together, just holding Ja’far against him. Tears rolled down Ja’far’s face, his shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs.

Sin knew he couldn’t make this better immediately.

But at least he could do this much right now.


	4. Paper Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Paper Moon
> 
> SinJa Week 2015: Day 4: Light
> 
> Summary: “On the first page of our story, the future seemed so bright. Then this thing turned out so evil, I don’t know why I’m still surprised.” - Love the Way You Lie: part 2  
> (character death)

Ja’far watched Sin’s back turn, watched as those eyes turned from him to lock onto his next goal, his next conquest. Swallowing, his hands curled on the ground, allowing his own eyes to fall shut. He didn’t want to see anymore. Not if Sin was continuing to walk this path. So he lay, half sprawled on his side, as Sin walked away, not even glancing back at Ja’far as he left. The glowing lights of the city splashed over him, circling around him as the rest of the room darkened. 

How had it gotten this bad?

Better yet, when had it gotten this bad, where Ja’far couldn’t even bring him back anymore?

Years ago, Sin had pulled him out of the darkness that was sure to destroy him. All it had taken was a simple call of his name, a gentle, caring voice in a void where nothing had cared, nothing had mattered. Except for death, and pain. And blood. Always blood. The bitter, metallic smell always clung to him, thick, dark stains spattering across the torn rags he wore as clothes. In the darkness, he had nothing. He needed nothing. He killed and that was it. Until he had attempted to kill a single man who didn’t wish to be killed, that’s when everything changed.

But then Sin had held out his hand, with eyes glittering with promises and hope.

And Ja’far had taken it.

Ja’far wondered now if that wasn’t a mistake, trusting his life to that man. But how was he to know it would turn out like this? It had been so gradual of a change, which even Ja’far didn’t notice until it was too late. But now his king had fallen too far, and there was no bringing him back. Ja’far had tried, tried so hard to reach out and bring him back. But this is how it turned out, with the sharp sting of betrayal. Tears burned at his eyes, a stray droplet seeping out from beneath his closed lids.

No, not even now could Ja’far even consider taking his hand a mistake. Sin had lead him back into the light, back into humanity before his own was lost for good. That wasn’t a mistake, and it never would be. Those first few moments were blinding in their intensity and Ja’far had never been happier. He and Sin built a nation together, one that proved to be the strongest of all. He had been so proud to serve Sinbad, to follow in his footsteps and dirty his hands if the need arose.

When disaster struck, though, was when everything started to change. Death was everywhere, crowding the streets of the newly built nation. The scent of decay drifted through the air, hovering overhead stubbornly. And Ja’far followed Sin through it all, watching the devastation on his king’s face build and knowing the entire time that he could do absolutely nothing about it. Sin’s robes felt rough and stiff as he grasped them in an attempt to remain as close to Sinbad as possible, to share this pain in any way he could. But he knew he couldn’t.

That was the first night that Ja’far had fully given himself to Sinbad, mind, body, and soul.

And after that, nothing was the same. There was a darkness that lingered just on the edge of Sin’s actions, steeling the whispers of his words, flickering in the back of those golden eyes. The sudden slyness to his thoughts and actions scared Ja’far, but he still performed his duties without question. Sin was just trying to prevent another disaster right? But there would always be a part of him that wasn’t convinced of this, even when Sin admitted in the dark of the night that he was afraid of what he was becoming, but he couldn’t stop it.

Ja’far’s hands twitched where they were, craving the warmth of Sin’s touch. But it wasn’t there. Sin was gone, and he would shortly follow. If that disaster so long ago had cost Sin his old life, then Ja’far too would follow in his footsteps. His lips pulled into a weak smile, even as more tears dribbled down his paling face. His knives, stolen from the storehouse of metal vessels, lay broken in front of him, limp fingers lingering just out of reach.

He’d tried to stop him.

This insanity had gone on long enough.

So Ja’far had confronted Sin, attempting to gain back what he had lost, only to realize that his Sin wasn’t there anymore. He had been replaced in entirety by someone new, someone cold and unforgiving. That realization had stung far more than the sword that had ripped through him, severing the last tie that Ja’far had to Sinbad forever. But what had hurt even worse was Sin’s parting words, hissed as he jerked the sword out of Ja’far’s body.

“You aren’t needed in my world anymore, Ja’far.”

Blood bubbled up Ja’far’s throat, his lungs faltering in their movements. Tears mingled with the blood spilling from his lips, dripping onto the growing puddle of blood. Pain seared at his nerves, his eyes cracking open once more to gaze at the closed door, hoping that it would open, that Sin would rush in with apologies on his lips and a healer at his back.

But no one came.

The warmth seeped from his limbs, the world darkening around him, pulling him back under its spell. He didn’t have the strength to fight anymore, his eyes slipping out of focus as he continued staring. He couldn’t help but wonder if this had been a ruse from the beginning, if he had been used from the very moment that he had taken Sin’s hand.

His last breath drifted from between his lips, a final tear sliding down his slack face.

Had Sin ever really loved him?


	5. Shadows of the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Shadows of the Past
> 
> SinJa Week 2015: Day 5 - Past
> 
> Summary: In the dark of the night, the past haunts the dreams of those who are vulnerable.

_Cold._

_It was so cold._

_Icy water lapped at his ankles, stealing any semblance of warmth from his body. Even with his hands clasped together in front of him, he couldn’t get warm. His breath steamed before him, a visible cloud that rose up to the door above. The meager warmth that friction provided was a poor substitute for a warm fire, numbness seeping into his fingers with each passing moment. The tips of his hair were soaked, dripping water in delicate streams onto the back of his torn slave uniform._

_Metal cuffs dug into his ankles, the frigid metal burning his skin. The restraint encircling his neck tore at his throat, the water that had gathered beneath the metal freezing and ripping the frail flesh. Icy trails of blood rolled from underneath it, soaking into the fabric of his clothes. Clenching his jaw, he slowly slid down the wall he was pressed up against, a whimper leaving his throat as the increased amount of flesh in contact with the water._

_But he couldn’t stay on his feet anymore. He didn’t have a choice._

_Would Maader be annoyed with him if he rested for a few minutes?_

_His forehead connected with the wooden cuffs around his wrists, his body attempting to stop the violent shivers wracking his form. Hot tears burned at his eyes, the feel of them bringing much more relief than they probably should. Greasy locks of rich purple hair curtained over his face, capturing whatever meager heat inside. Not like it actually helped. Already his lips were tinted blue, the beds of his fingernails ashen with the same shade of cerulean. His knees knocked together, feet splayed slightly even as he attempted to curl even tighter into himself._

_Tears carved a searing path down to his chin, the dampness capturing the cold not a moment later. His cheeks were numb, his eyelids heavy. He couldn’t take this much longer. The tremors were beginning to subside, the numbness almost blissful in its nature. He couldn’t feel the cold if he couldn’t feel anything at all. But he couldn’t stop the water from pouring down his face, the hopeless gulps of frigid air that he took to stave off his sobs._

_This felt a lot like giving up._

_Overhead the door creaked open, Maader appearing in the entrance, a sick smile spreading across her face. Her open arms seemed so warm and inviting, but he could barely lift his head to even look at her. Desperate words poured from between his lips, a mumbled, slurred mess of sounds that didn’t even sound coherent as they echoed around the tall walls._

_Her grin widened, pale irises glowing in dark pools of black. “Won’t you come to your mother, Sinbad?” she asked, her voice sickly sweet. His jaw clicked as it painfully open and closed again, his shaking lips not forming the words that he commanded them to._

_‘I can’t…’_

_The words he desperately wanted to say._

_But couldn’t._

_It was so cold._

**MLMMLM**

Ja’far blinked awake, the haze of sleep clinging to his thoughts as he fought to remain conscious. The deep black of midnight filled the room, obliterating all but the bright light of the stars. Yawning, he rolled over in his bed, wondering what it was that had woken him. He pulled the covers back over his shoulder, the cold bite of the night air nipping at his flesh. Nothing seemed immediately obvious to him. There was no threat, nor anybody calling his name. Just silence.

A quiet whimpering seeped into the quiet, jolting him from the cloud of fatigue. He shot up in bed, hands immediately flying for the weapons he kept wrapped around him, even when sleeping. His senses shot to immediate alertness, onyx eyes wide and searching. But there was no movement, not even a stir in the shadows of his room. His grip loosened around his blades, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Faint cries pierced through the air once more, Ja’far’s body tensing at the sound. He recognized that voice and it wasn’t often that he heard it distressed. Concern flooding him, Ja’far slipped out of bed, shuddering briefly at the full blast of cold that enveloped him upon doing so. But even so, he padded gently away from his bed and opened his door, jaw clenching at the increased volume of the pained sounds.

He hoped Sin wasn’t hurt.

Creeping quietly through the empty halls, he kept his hands tight around his blades, prepared for any attack that may come. Sucking in a deep breath, he carefully eased Sin’s door open and slipped inside, scanning the room for any signs of violence. But there was none. Sin lay on his bed, asleep, but other than that, no one else was in the room. It was empty, and cold. Ja’far scowled, strapping his weapons back against his forearms. He had woken up for this?

Just as he was about to leave, Sin whimpered again. He curled up into a tight ball on the bed, his hands fisted firmly in the thick bedsheets. Ja’far approached the bed slowly, his gaze softening at what he found. Distress creased Sin’s face, tears soaking his cheeks down onto the pillow case below. He trembled, even under the blankets, and his mouth moved soundlessly, lips shaking and sluggish. Ja’far sighed, his shoulders slumping. He knew what this was.

Moving to the side of the bed, he lifted up the sheets and slid into the bed beside Sin. He settled himself next to the trembling form, propping his body up on a single elbow. Sin stiffened at the shift in the bed, but did not wake, his lips parting once more. “Maader,” he whispered hoarsely, the sheer desperation in his voice making Ja’far want to go back and kill that woman himself. Swallowing down those emotions, Ja’far rested a careful hand on Sin’s hair, lacing his fingers gently into the smooth locks. He slowly, ever so slowly, brushed his fingers through the long strands.

Then, he opened his mouth and began to sing quietly, his eyes drifting shut. It was a soft lullaby, the low notes vibrating gently from deep within his chest. He had done this before, many times, and nothing soothed Sinbad faster than him singing. Already, the violent tremors had lightened into a light trembling, the taut muscles loosening with every rise and fall of Ja’far’s voice. He continued to stroke Sin’s hair as he sang, fiddling with the rich purple strands as they ran between his fingers.

The tears slowed to a stop, stray trickles of water slipping down from the closed eyes, and the shaking died down entirely. The sharp, frantic intakes of air eased into deep, rhythmic breaths, tense hands uncurling from their tight hold on the sheets. Sin’s expression relaxed, his mouth falling open. Even as Ja’far watched this transformation, his own eyes felt heavy, the warmth of being in bed with Sinbad relaxing him as well. His elbow collapsed beneath him, head colliding with the pillow under it.

In moments, they had both fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep, probably the best night they’d both admit to having in a while.

Not like that made it any easier to deal with come morning, when Sin was a little overenthusiastic to find Ja’far asleep in his bed.


	6. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Breathe
> 
> SinJa Week 2015: Day 5 - Gift
> 
> Summary: It started with a wheeze, which most asthmatics don’t even notice until it’s too late.

It started with a wheeze.

Not really even a wheeze. It was more a slight pull in the back of his throat, only barely constricting the amount of air his lungs would accept.

Ja’far didn’t even notice it that morning when he woke, blinking sleep from his eyes. His breath fogged out in front of him, his window spilling cold air into the room. It had been left open from the previous night. Swallowing, Ja’far sat up, his back cracking as he straightened from where he had been seated at his desk. A grimace slipped across his face, one of his hands going back to rub absently at his lower spine. It ached at his touch, taut muscles bunched at each movement. Slowly, his hands moved up to massage at his stiff neck, his eyes clenching shut.

Such were the effects of falling asleep at his desk.

Heaving a sigh, he pushed himself out of his chair, rolling his head on his shoulders. He made his way over to the window, glancing out into the bright morning light. Smoke billowed out the chimneys of several houses, expanding out into the air and disappearing into the clear blue sky. Its scent tickled Ja’far’s nose, inhaling sharply at the normally comforting scent. It tickled at the back of his throat, causing him to turn and cough into the crook of his arm. Exhaling slowly afterwards, he closed the window, listening to the creak of the hinges at the movement.

Lowering his arms, he stared out into the city once more, now blurred by the slightly warped glass of the window. A light trembling traveled across his body, his fingers frigid against his forearms. He tucked them into his sleeves, the fabric falling over them easily. It would be a slow morning because of the colder temperatures. It wasn’t often that Sindria got this cold, but it occurred at least once every winter. A smile pulled at Ja’far’s lips, watching as the first of many citizens ventured out into the cold.

As slow as the morning might be, it was about time to get it started.

No matter how much Sin might complain about it.

So, smiling slightly, Ja’far moved to get to work, reflexively ignoring the hitch to his own breaths.

**MLMMLM**

Sin rubbed his hands together, his shoulders hunched as a shield from the cold. A pout creased his features, his body shaking at random intervals despite the extra layers he had donned earlier. A thick blanket was draped over his legs, keeping at least his lower half warm. But it just wasn’t enough. It wasn’t his fault that he was sensitive to the cold. Sighing, he lowered his hands to his desk, nearly recoiling as the frigid wood met his touch. A stack of scrolls lay stacked before him, delivered there earlier by Ja’far.

Oh, heartless Ja’far. He just didn’t listen to reason. A day like this was better spent in bed with a warm cup of tea rather than at a desk working. But Ja’far had mercilessly pushed him from his toasty bed and dragged him to his desk before dropping the morning work directly in front of him. The same stack that Sin had yet to touch, even as the sun reached its peak in the sky. It had warmed up slightly as the day wore on, but not enough for Sin to feel particularly inclined to actually work.

The problem was Ja’far was due to check on him in a few minutes, likely with a new stack of work, and he had yet to start on the first few he had been given.

Shit.

A curse on his tongue, he reached forward and grabbed a scroll, the other hand finding the quill that was in the inkwell at the corner of his desk. But even as he touched the paper, the door creaked open, a cold wind spilling through the room. The flames in his fireplace crackled at the movement of the air, briefly flickering. Sin shuddered, goosebumps pebbling his flesh. One of the perks he was allotted as king was a personal fireplace, but unfortunately the palace was rather drafty so his door had to be kept closed when the fireplace was in use in order to keep the heat inside.

Ja’far stood in the doorway, another set of scrolls clutched in the crook of his arm. His black eyes were dark and angry, locked onto the guilty form of Sin only just beginning to work. Sin swallowed, slowly lowering the scroll back onto his desk. That look never bode well for him. He opened his mouth, to defend himself, but Ja’far beat him to it. “Sin, have you done anything at all today?!” he snapped, a sort of breathless edge to his voice.

Sin’s eyebrows furrowed at the sound, his ears instantly pinpointing the rasp to Ja’far’s voice. But he shook the thoughts aside in favor of the irritation that surged through him. “It’s cold, Ja’far,” he complained, his lips still curved into a pout. “You know I don’t work well in the cold.” Ja’far rolled his eyes, storming over to the desk. He slammed down the next set of scrolls down, scowling down at his king.

“Does it look like I care, Sin? I know it’s cold, but I’ve been working all day!” Now that Ja’far stood so close, Sin could hear him panting slightly, hear the slight wheeze in each inhale and exhale. Golden eyes narrowed, jumping up to study Ja’far’s face. He was pale, as per normal, the dark freckles speckling his cheeks standing out greatly against the nearly white skin. Onyx eyes burned angrily above them, the messy fringe of silver bangs the only evidence that Ja’far had indeed been working today. But his lips, normally a light pink, were nearly as white as his skin and each breath whistled in through his open mouth.

Oh, this was not good.

“Ja’far, are you alright?” Ja’far’s scowl deepened, nostrils flaring. But surprise shone in his eyes, his eyebrows lifting slightly. “You don’t seem to be breathing well.” He exhaled harshly, hiding a cough with the noise.

“Just do your work. I’ll be back later tonight.”

And before Sin could even retort, Ja’far stalked out, the door slamming loudly shut behind him. Warmth began to build in the room once more, but Sin only sighed and picked up the scroll he had been attempting to start work on when Ja’far had interrupted him.

Vaguely, he realized that Ja’far hadn’t answered him.

**MLMMLM**

Ja’far stood, hunched over his desk, gasping for air that just wouldn’t come. His hands were planted firmly into the desk’s surface, the beds of his fingers white as he gripped the wood tightly. The orange cast of the sun spilled into the room through his windows, reminding Ja’far just how long he’d been fighting this reaction. He’d recognized that he wasn’t breathing as well as he normally could late in the morning, but had pushed it aside, just marking it off as a flare up.

He hadn’t had an attack in years and didn’t think it was likely he would actually get a full blown one.

But here he was, desperately sucking in air through pipes that were closed off to such necessities. He could feel the air around him, feel it moving even as he did, but he couldn’t take any in. It was as infuriating as it was distressing. His chest heaved violently, the little air he was able to get in hissing in through his tight passages. Panic snaked through his veins, only proving to worsen the attack. Damn fucking asthma. The muscles in his neck stood out greatly, most of his energy being spent on his attempts to inhale and exhale, to just fucking breathe.

Already, black specks began to pepper his vision, pulsing slightly and expanding with every passing minute.

Oh, Solomon. He was going to suffocate, wasn’t he?

Thoughts were beginning to come sluggishly, his ears roaring with the frantic pounding of his heart. His knees buckled under him, his hands slipping from the table. Papers crashed to the ground, toppled from the desk by his sliding limbs. Pain lanced sharply through his skull as his forehead collided harshly with the edge of his desk. Not like he could stop his descent. He crumpled to the unforgiving floor, his hands clawing weakly at the floorboards. His strained breaths echoed around the silent room, painful even to his own failing ears.

The door slammed open, a concerned cry of his name shooting through the room. The floor vibrated as someone ran towards him, a face appearing above him, even as his vision blurred and narrowed. Sharp golden eyes stared down at him, wide and scared. Sinbad. Ja’far couldn’t help the relief that flooded him at Sin’s presence. Warm arms wrapped around him, two cold fingers pressing gently against the pulse at his throat. Alarm entered Sin’s expression, the blood draining from his face.

“Ja’far, hold on,” he called, the desperate ring in his voice filtering through the roaring in Ja’far’s ears. “I’m getting you help.”

Ja’far couldn’t even nod in response, all motor control lost to him. His vision faded to complete black as he stared at Sin, only barely registering his king’s call for a healer, any healer. His mind gave out before he could see the results of the cries, still gasping for air that wouldn’t come.

**MLMMLM**

Ja’far stifled his yawn as he stepped into his room, his joints popping every time he stretched. Normally, he’d still be in his office working, but Sin had been adamant lately about him going easy after he had recovered from his attack and Ja’far couldn’t argue any sense into him. Ja’far supposed he couldn’t blame him. After all, that attack had been rather frightening to experience, much less witness on someone you cared about. But he could do with a little less hovering. 

He wasn’t sure how to tell Yamuraiha that she didn’t need to follow him around all day and that he was fine.

He blinked upon noticing the candle already lit in his bedroom, the dull orange light of the flames sending arching shadows throughout the room. Who had been in here recently and had they done anything else to his room? His senses prickled as he stepped further into the room, his footsteps quiet against the flooring. But he couldn’t sense anyone in the vicinity. Strange.

Sighing, he walked up to his dresser, slipping his keffiyeh from his head. As he dumped it onto the top of the bureau, something caught his eye, a slight glimmer at the edge of his vision. Ja’far turned slowly, raising an eyebrow at the small box placed delicately on the foot of his bed. It was wrapped in bright paper, a satin ribbon bowed at its top. He didn’t have a single doubt who had put it there, and that the same person was probably lingering around the room somewhere.

Shaking his head, he made his way over to the present, picking it up carefully. “You can come out now, Sin,” he called softly, turning the box over in his hands. Its weight shifted as he moved it, but nothing thumped. It was hard to depict what exactly it was, but he still continued studying it, attempting to guess what was within. Strong arms twined around his waist, pulling him back against a sturdy chest.

“Why don’t you just open it?” Sin rumbled, pressing his lips to the top of Ja’far’s head.

“…Will it explode on me if I do?” The laughter at Ja’far’s question only worried him more about that possible outcome.

“That was one time, Ja’far. And I apologized. Just open it.” Ja’far huffed irritably, but was already slipping the bow from the box.

“Fine, but if it attacks me in any way, you better run.” Sin smiled into his hair, his arms tightening.

“Duly noted.” Shaking his head, Ja’far tore carefully at the paper, watching the strips fall to the floor. Once the wood was bare, he eased open the lid, peeking inside at its contents only to stare. Folded carefully into the bottom of the small box was a knitted scarf, the emerald yarn almost glowing. He reached inside and pulled the strip of cloth from the box, onyx eyes fixed upon the way the stiches wove together. Sin watched his reaction from above, nearly holding his breath as he awaited Ja’far’s response. “Do…Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful, Sin,” Ja’far murmured, placing the empty box down onto the bed so he could study the scarf more closely. It was long, long enough for him to wrap around his neck multiple times, and soft to the touch. “Did you make this?”

“I…uh…tried to. My attempts were terrible, really. So I went to Hinahoho for help.” Ja’far laughed, still marveling at the cloth in his hands. His head cocked to the side as he ran another hand over it, feeling a gentle buzz of power against his skin.

“…Is this enchanted?” Sin was silent for a moment, his hands tightening around his own wrists.

“It is.”

“What for?”

“To help you breathe, Ja’far.” A smile tugged at Ja’far’s lips, his gaze softening even as he glanced back at Sin. Golden eyes glimmered as they met his, a strange emotion flickering in the back of those irises. “I was so scared when I found you collapsed like that. I don’t want you to ever get that bad again. This should prevent that.” He paused, his gaze skirting to the side. “…Will you wear it, Ja’far?”

“I will if it will put my king at ease.” Sin grinned, chuckling at the words.

“It would indeed.”

“Then consider it done.”


	7. Like A Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Like A Family
> 
> SinJa Week 2015 - Day 7: Free Day
> 
> Summary: Sin and Ja’far really ought to know better than to make out where other people can see them.

Sinbad fumbled for the door handle behind Ja’far, his lips attached quite firmly to Ja’far’s. His hands closed upon the brass knob, twisting it and admitting both of them to the room lingering just behind. Ja’far gasped, though whether it was in surprise or arousal, neither could be certain. Sin grinned against his lips, his tongue snaking out to sneak into the open mouth. The gasp meshed into a moan, Ja’far’s arms twining tightly around his partner’s neck. Sin continued backing them up, stopping only when Ja’far was pressed against the far wall.

Hands wandered across clothed flesh, heated bodies flush up against each other. Sin’s fingers, once circling around Ja’far’s waist, trailed lower, grasping at Ja’far’s ass. Ja’far groaned into his mouth, his lips parting further to meld their lips together more completely. He certainly was needy today, not that Sin minded at all. Nails dug at Sin’s scalp, Ja’far fingers threading into the thick locks of hair. His heart pounded in his chest, his hands squeezing once more at the mound of flesh in his hands.

Lips slipping from one another, Sin trailed soft kisses down Ja’far’s jaw, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. Ja’far took a ragged breath, onyx eyes sliding shut. The freckles that donned his cheeks had disappeared in the dark blush that spread across his features. A similar flush darkened Sin’s bronzed cheeks, golden eyes glazed with lust. He latched onto Ja’far’s pulse, scraping his teeth against it. Wandering hands slipped beneath the complicated ties of robes, toying with the back ties to loosen them.

This was a rare occurrence. And Sin was going to make the most of it.

So much so that he didn’t even notice that he left the door open, nor the set of wide eyes staring at them from the hallway.

**MLMMLM**

Alibaba sped down the palace halls, air burning his passage ways as he sprinted along. He tore open a hidden door and skidded to a stop inside, bending over his knees, breathing heavily. Inside the room, a few people sat at long table, studying the papers scattered along its surface. Some were drawings, a varied mix of sexually explicit materials and sweet romantic scenes. Others contained text, Alibaba’s own handwriting staring back at him when he glanced up. Pisti stared at him, her eyes colored in confusion. Next to her was Yamuraiha, who blinked up at him, and Sharrkan, who shook his head in dismay at the antics of his student.

The SinJa Fanclub meeting room, a place that was unfortunately all too familiar to Alibaba.

Other members lounged in the room, reading from Alibaba’s own stories, or staring at the paintings. But Alibaba paid them no mind, walking up to the main table. “Alibaba?” Pisti asked, her head cocking innocently to the side. “Why are you so…sweaty?”

“Sinbad…and Ja’far…” Alibaba gasped out, still out of breath from running such a distance. He needed more training. “Making out…” Pisti’s eyes widened slowly, elation filling her expression. She hopped out of her hair and practically leaped over to Alibaba. Her hands grasped tightly onto his shoulders, shaking him violently.

“Where?! Oh, Solomon, where?!”

“Ja’far’s office.” Pisti didn’t need any more than that information. Within moments, she was gone, the others vanishing shortly thereafter. Alibaba was left alone in the room, staring blankly at the now empty spot in front of him.

…Well, he should probably get started on the next story that Pisti was sure to demand from him after this.

**MLMMLM**

Sin had finally worked the clasps loose when the door slammed back against the wall, startling them both out of their skin. Ja’far jumped, his eyes flying open only to witness Pisti, her hand still planted on the door, walk into the room. Her eyes fell upon them in seconds, a wide, almost manic, smile, splitting her expression. The blood drained from his face, his hands stiffening in Sin’s hair. Sin paused in his ministrations along Ja’far’s neck, his fingers slipping out from beneath the clasps.

“OH HELL YES!” she shrieked, practically jumping up and down. Sin sighed and rested his forehead on the juncture of Ja’far’s neck, disappointment coursing through him. Dammit, he had gotten so close that time too. Other members of that god forsaken group appeared in the doorway, hungry eyes gleaming in at them, staring, watching, waiting. Ja’far shoved Sin away, suddenly thankful that the front of his robes was loose and could hide certain…things.

Pisti whined, begging them not to stop on her account. Ja’far, his hands moving back to tighten the ties of his robes, stalked forward, his shock and embarrassment melting fast to anger. Sin fell back against the wall, a laugh caught on his tongue. “Since when is it alright to barge in on people unannounced, Pisti?” Ja’far demanded, attempting to ignore the breathless rasp to his words. “If you have so much on your time to spy, maybe I should add more work to your schedule!” Irritation laced into his words, the scowl on his lips more than evidence enough.

He wasn’t annoyed that his time with Sin had been interrupted, not at all. Even if it had been going places, and fast. He was just…angry that Pisti had a lack of manners.

Sin watched as Ja’far lectured Pisti, watched the group behind her vanish as if they hadn’t been there at all. He almost mentioned it, but it was fun enough to watch Ja’far pile the punishments on Pisti, almost like a mother might to a misbehaving child. A small, fond smile stretched across Sin’s features, the golden hue of his eyes softening as he looked on. Pisti’s eyes were wide, but not in fear. She could see the same thing Sin was, for absolute certain.

For technically not having a real family anymore, Sinbad really had the best family that anyone could ever ask for. 


End file.
